


Trust

by princesskay



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Chastity Device, Dom/sub Play, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Porn With Plot, Punishments, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill, his twin, his soulmate, the center of his universe. . .For the love of his brother, he would never be a single, but a half of a whole, the yin to Bill's yang, the moon to his sun. It could be so rewarding sometimes, but when Tom's pride stepped in, it was frustrating beyond belief. </p><p>There were rules in this relationship – giving and taking, obeying and rebelling, reward and punishment. There was a balance of power that, if upset, could ruin everything they had worked so hard for. Right now, the balance was disturbed and Tom's behavior over the past few days had done nothing to set it right again. He knew he had to be punished, if only to make him realize that Bill, not Tom, was in charge, on top, making the commands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trespass

**Author's Note:**

> I busted my ass on this story for two days straight! I hope you enjoy!

Tom's fingers shook as he poured himself yet another drink. The balcony doors were open, ushering in a cool, summer breeze, but he could still feel the sweat lining his brow. His nerves had been grating with worry for nearly half an hour, and his thoughts spun in a torturous, never-ending circle.  
He had entered the room feeling scared, wondering what Bill knew, wondering what his brother was going to do. He was sick to his stomach with dread just trying to calculate the damage he had done.  
Then came the planning – the wheedling and begging he would do when Bill finally arrived. He could try to explain it all away, tell Bill that he loved him, say he would do anything to change it. . .He had not one bargaining chip in the whole situation except for his own body. Bill could drink his blood and eat his flesh if only it would somehow change what he had done.  
After going through the whole process of planning what he would say, Tom's thoughts had shifted to anger. He had been here before, wondering why the hell he still listened to Bill and let his little brother control his life. It wasn't like Tom wasn't an adult, with the ability to make his own decisions. He was twenty years old, for Christ's sakes. If he wanted a woman, food, a drink, a new pair of shoes, to fucking jack off by himself, he could do it! One single thing kept him from doing all those without asking a second opinion. Bill, his twin, his soulmate, the center of his universe. . .For the love of his brother, he would never be a single, but a half of a whole, the yin to Bill's yang, the moon to his sun. It could be so rewarding sometimes, but when Tom's pride stepped in, it was frustrating beyond belief.  
When the anger had worn off, Tom returned to a brooding, contemplative pose on the bed, a drink cradled in his hand. He needed the alcohol just to keep him upright in front of Bill, not in a crumpled, crying mess at his brother's feet. He still wasn't quite sure how Bill had found out, but it was the only thing he could think of that he had done wrong. In the past few months, Bill had extended the leash a bit, eased up on the rules. . .Now, Tom had gone and fucked the whole thing up. He had been given some of his freedom back only to make the wrong decision – a very, very wrong decision.  
Tom threw the scotch back, emptying the glass of it's contents once more. He knew Bill would be pissed off at him if Tom were drunk when he arrived, but he couldn't stop slamming back shots. It was keeping him quiet, sane, and somewhat put together. It was Bill's fucking fault anyway, taking his damn good time getting up here.  
Tom waved a finger at no one in particular, “You've been a bad boy, Tom! You're really testing the limits here!”  
He made a sound of disgust as Bill's voice echoed the words in his head.  
“Fuck you.” He muttered, slowly making his way over to the decanter of quickly diminishing scotch.  
He poured a drink, muttering, “I'm not bowing to you. I'm not letting you run my fucking life.”  
This was when he knew he really was drunk. Even when the twins fought, they agreed on one thing. They loved each other unconditionally, and no amount of bad behavior generated hatred between them.  
Tom stared into the glass, suddenly feeling tears in his eyes. Being mad at Bill was useless because the younger twin had done nothing wrong. He had been nice, letting Tom do things on his own, making several big decisions by himself. Tom was the one that had fucked things up.  
Tom pushed the glass away, causing it to slide off the counter and shatter on the floor. He backed away, his face screwing up with tears. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to suppress the unwanted emotions. Tom Kaulitz did not cry! It was pathetic, and Bill would think so too. Bill hated it when he cried, especially in bed.  
Tom took several deep breaths and managed to get his breathing under control. He swiped at the stray tears, hoping to scrub them from Bill's sight. He had to buck up here, take the punishment like a man and hope they could move on.  
Tom sat down on the bed and cradled his head in his hands. He tried to seriously think of what to say, but all his excuses sounded lame, empty. Bill would never except them. He would throw them on the ground, call them useless, meaningless. He would be angry, so angry. . .  
Tom's head jerked up from his hands when he heard the doorknob turn. His heart shoved it's way up into his throat and his stomach churned. He wanted to run to the bathroom and puke.  
The door slid open and Bill's tall, slender figure filled the frame. His pompadour was hairsprayed in place in an impressive crest above his forehead and dark, unhappy eyes peered at Tom from beneath deeply furrowed brows. His sharp jaw and cheekbones were accentuated by the dim lighting in the room, giving his face a more severe, intimidating look. His usually perky, smiling lips were drawn into a taut line.  
Tom swallowed hard and avoided that burning gaze, hoping to appear more confident by not looking solely at the floor.  
Bill shut the door behind himself and stepped forward, clasping his arms behind his back. He was wearing all black, tight pants and low, v-neck under a pin-striped blazer. The sleeves of the jacket were rolled up, exposing smooth, blue-veined arms that stretched out to long, fine-boned fingers. His exposed chest rose and fell in steady, deep breaths that barely concealed an angrily pounding pulse. In the silence, Tom could hear the tension clashing against his nerves.  
“Tom.” Bill began, his voice low.  
Tom tongued insistently at his lip ring, the nervous habit multiplied by ten now that Bill had finally made his appearance. His eyes flicked to Bill, then quickly looked away, horrified by how pissed off Bill looked.  
“Tom Kaulitz.” Bill's voice was sharp. He started across the room, his hands fisted at his sides, “You will answer me when I speak to you.”  
“Yes. . .” Tom's voice was a hoarse whisper, “Yes, sir.”  
Bill paused a few feet in front of him, “Thank you. . . Now that we're past that, would you like to try to explain yourself?”  
Tom stared at Bill's boots, his mind suddenly blank of all the things he had imagined he would say. He was speechless, his lips moving with empty words.  
“Tom?”  
“I. . .I can't. . .” He whispered, rubbing his sweaty palms over the knees of his jeans.  
“Surely you can.” Bill replied, disbelieving, “I saw you, Tom. That girl had your dick in her mouth. I know that was a conscious decision.”  
“You. . .you saw?” Tom's eyes finally managed to get off the floor and look at Bill.  
“Yes.” Bill replied, indignantly, “I saw you kiss her, grope her, and then I saw you put your dick in her mouth.”  
Tom's cheeks grew hotter than fire. He swallowed against a dry throat and looked away, “I. . .It was . . .It was a one time thing.” He whispered.  
“Most fangirls are.”  
“No I mean. . .I mean picking up a girl.” Tom whispered, “. . .without you. . .”  
“Was it? Because you seemed to really be enjoying yourself.” Bill's tone was condemning.  
“It was a moment of weakness. I saw her and I. . .I couldn't stop myself. . .” Tom's voice was as close to a whine as it could get without turning into indiscernible moaning.  
“Discipline, Tom.” Bill snapped, grabbing Tom's chin roughly and forcing Tom to meet his eyes, “I thought after all this time, you would understand the meaning of it. How many times have I told you to wait and you've listened so well? How many times have I punished you for not listening?”  
“I. . .I'm sorry. . .” Tom whimpered, fresh tears welling in his eyes.  
“This was a ground rule from the very beginning.” Bill continued as if he hadn't even heard Tom's apology, “No girls unless we're in the same room. I don't care if you talk to them, dance with them, even buy them a drink. . .But sex. . .Tom, that is for me!”  
The last sentence ended in a hurt, frustrated tone that sent a shaft of pain through Tom's heart. He couldn't bear to look into Bill's eyes even with Bill's fingers holding his chin in place.  
“Look at me!” Bill demanded.  
Tom lifted repentant eyes, hoping to God that Bill could see the regret in his gaze.  
“I've been patient with you, waited for you to learn. . .And you were doing so well.” A frown flickered across his brow, “What happened?”  
“I don't know. . .” Tom whispered, “I. . .I lost control. . .I had a moment of. . .I don't know, rebellion, I guess.”  
Bill's pierced brow arched, sharply.  
“I was mad because the other week I wanted it and you. . .” Tom shook his head, letting his eyes close over the moisture gathering, “You made me wait. . .and wait. . .and wait. . .I couldn't take it anymore!”  
Bill's fingers slid from his chin and he let out a soft sigh, “I admit, Tom, I may have been partially to blame. . .but I trusted you.”  
Tom's eyes opened wide. The implication was clear in Bill's voice. He spoke in the past tense, indicating that he no longer trusted Tom. Not like he had before. . .His days of freedom were over.  
“What are you going to do?” He asked, weakly.  
Bill took a step back, “I think you know, I'm going to have to punish you.”  
Tom's stomach dropped and he curled his hands into fists so hard that his nails dug painfully into his palms. He knew the routine punishments for misbehavior, but he couldn't imagine what the discipline for this trespass could be. He had never gone so wrong. . .  
“How many?” He whispered, fearfully.  
“I'm going to have to think about that.” Bill said, his voice stiff, “I may have to divide it up into different days.”  
Tom felt panic well in his chest. The idea that the punishment would be so great that Bill would have to stretch it out across hours, days, a week even made his body ache already. He didn't want to go through every day knowing that each night, he would have to strip down and lay out for however many spankings Bill deemed necessary.  
“You don't think you can handle that?” Bill demanded, all but reading Tom's mind.  
Tom tried to speak, but he could hardly breath, much less argue.  
“Well, you should've thought about that before you took that girl to your bed.”  
“I. . .I didn't fuck her!” Tom cried, desperate to at least earn some trust back.  
“I don't care.” Bill snapped, the volume with which he spoke rising drastically, “In your mind, it was already done. You had already . . .left me.”  
“I didn't. . .”  
“No. I don't want to hear your apologies or your lame excuses.” Bill held up his hands, “You've done enough.”  
“Bill, please-”  
Tom started up off the bed as Bill spun on a heel to leave. He grabbed at Bill's sleeve, desperation and fear clawing at his heart.  
Bill turned, wrenching his arm out of Tom's grip. His eyes were wide with anger, his cheeks flushed dark pink. Strands of hair were falling loose from his pompadour; he looked empty, broken, betrayed.  
“You go sit back down on that bed!” He thrust a finger at the sheets, his voice trembling with outrage, “When I come back with the paddle, you had better be naked and on your stomach. Do you understand me?”  
Tom let go of Bill's sleeve and took a staggering step back. Bill never punished him out of anger; always out of love, and the determination to set things right.  
“Bill, please. . .” He whispered, “Please, think about it, like you said.”  
“Go to the bed.” Bill repeated.  
Tom lowered his head, trying to work past the wave of tears assaulting his eyes. He wanted to run, to push past Bill and escape this house. He wanted to avoid this punishment any way he could, but he knew if he tried to leave, things would never be the same again. This was the turning point, where he laid down and took it, resetting the balance of power in their relationship.  
He went to the bed as he was told and sank to the sheets, drained of fight.  
“On your stomach, and naked.” Bill reminded him.  
The sound of the door slamming alerted Tom to the fact that Bill had left to get the paddle, and if he didn't get moving, he would've disobeyed again already. He grabbed at his shirt, ripping it off over his head and throwing it across the room. His legs got tangled up in his baggy jeans and boxers in his hurry, but he finally managed to strip down his skin. The air from the balcony suddenly felt cold. He went and shut the doors and drew the curtains, grasping for the final threads of his privacy and dignity.  
His body eagerly sank to the sheets, unwilling to keep him standing any longer. The smooth material was like a balm against his heated skin and the pillow top mattress cradled him like a mother. He tried to convince himself he would be okay, that he could make it through this punishment, that Bill would be satisfied with one, long, harsh beating. . .But he knew they were all lies.  
The sound of footsteps in the hall grabbed his attention. All his muscles clenched, undoing all the calm breaths he had been taking in Bill's absence. The door opened and slammed shut once more, locking the twins inside.  
Bill approached the bed, carrying the paddle. Tom strained his eyes over his shoulder, looking desperately for any sign that Bill had changed his mind, or calmed down just a little.  
Bill shrugged out of his jacket and laid it aside, leaving his lean arms bare. Sinking to the mattress next to Tom, he put a hand on Tom's bare neck. His fingers caressed, softly before sliding up between Tom's cornrows. His nails dug in, scratching wonderfully along Tom's scalp. Usually, Tom loved it when Bill massaged his head in this manner, but now, he could only lie stiffly against the pillow, waiting for the punishment that followed the gentle touch.  
“You know I love you.” Bill said, his voice light, but strained.  
He said it every time, an assurance that their love and bond was in place, perhaps stronger than ever since it endured even through these trials. This time, Tom knew he was saying it by rote, trying to control his anger.  
“But I can't say that I don't want to do this.” Bill added, his tone crestfallen, “I'm angry, Tom. Very angry.”  
Tom's breaths rushed frantically across the pillow. It felt like there was a noose around his lungs, squeezing so tight he couldn't breath.  
“I'm disappointed, hurt, upset. . .I'm going to punish you. . .like I never have before.”  
The noose tightened. Tom watched the room blur before his vision. He tried to tell himself not to cry, but Bill's words were damning and unerring. This was going to hurt. A lot.  
Bill's hand trailed down Tom's spine, leaving goosebumps in it's wake. It came to rest just above Tom's tailbone, adding pressure as he raised the paddle. Tom pressed his lips together, quelling a moan.  
The paddle came down with a crack, sending white-hot pain flaring across Tom's ass. His mouth tore open with a cry, and he jerked against the bed. There was hardly a pause before the paddle smacked him again, reinforcing the pain. It hurt like hell, but the tears that began to pour from Tom's eyes were tears of remorse, not agony.  
Loud smacks cracked through the silence like a whip. Bill's arms swung repeatedly, bring the paddle down with mechanical, debilitating force. One after the other, the spankings shredded his skin to one burning, painful nerve-ending and his heart to one throb of regret. He squirmed and moaned with each spanking, trying so hard to be strong through it, but finding his mouth bubbling with pleas for mercy.  
He didn't know how many spankings Bill had delivered, when at last, he burst out, “Bill, please! Please, it hurts so bad!”  
Bill stopped, the paddle upraised, “I'm afraid that's the point, darling.”  
Tom panted and sobbed against the pillow, his body aching as if snapped in two, “Please. . .I'm sorry. . .I'm so sorry. . .I'll never do it again. I swear! I'll do anything!”  
Silence met his desperate plea, and he fully expected Bill to go on with the punishment. Much to his surprise and relief, Bill got up from the bed, dropping the paddle on the sheets. He stood back from the bed, breathing heavily. At last, he said, “We'll talk about this in morning.”  
And then he was gone, leaving the remnants of his anger in the air. Tom let out a breath, but stayed on his stomach for several moments, trying to decide if the pain or the fact that Bill had actually stopped was more shocking.  
Finally, he slowly rose from the bed and limped to the bathroom. He rummaged with a trembling hand through the cabinet, knocking over several bottled before closing his fist around the pain reliever. He threw back three of the pills and drank directly from the faucet. When he lifted his head, he met red, watery eyes in the reflection of the mirror. His skin was pale from the pain, and the red, puffy rims of his eyes stood out sharply against the pallor.  
He should've been relieved that Bill had cut the punishment short, but he still felt as sick as before. He knew this was only a brief respite. For all he knew, Bill could wake up the next morning even angrier than he was now. If that happened, Tom didn't know what would become of him. He was Tom, Bill's twin, Bill's submissive. . .If he no longer had Bill, he didn't know who he was. 

~

Breakfast was endured in strained silence with the sense of foreboding that had followed Tom all through the night. He had hardly slept, just tossing and turning, first from the pain, and then from the fear. When he had dragged that girl into the hotel room, he had never foreseen this outcome. He hadn't thought ahead, had only acted in the heat of the moment as he so often did.  
Tom drank down more pain reliever with his glass of milk, but mostly pushed his food around the plate, disinterested in nourishment. His stomach was tied up in so many knots he could hardly think of putting food in his mouth without feeling sick.  
Bill was scraping his plate clean when he finally broke the silence. They had hardly said “good morning” or asked how the other had slept. Tom had been surprised by even the small token of Bill's murmur, “Hallo,” upon meeting in the hallway before breakfast.  
“I'm sorry.”  
Tom's eyes swung from his plate to meet Bill's worried expression, “What?”  
“I'm sorry for acting out of anger.” Bill added, keeping his expression smooth, “I should've waited, like I said.”  
Tom didn't know what to say. He knew he deserved the beating, and probably a hundred more. Why was Bill apologizing?  
“You acted out of anger when you brought that girl home, and I acted out of anger when I retaliated last night. I was just as wrong as you on that point.” Bill continued.  
All Tom could do was nod dumbly. He hadn't excepted so much as a concerned question on Tom's pain level this morning. He had never seen an apology coming.  
“I've decided on a better course of action.” Bill said, rising from the table. He set his plate in the sink and paused by the counter, gazing out the window at the back yard. The sun was up and shining at it's brightest. Through the open window, Tom could hear birds singing a cheerful melody. To an outsider, the Kaulitz mansion and surrounding grounds appeared to be a picture of peace. If only they could get a glimpse at the turmoil of the inside.  
“What is it?” Tom asked, anxiously.  
“Right now, it is in the mail.” Bill said, turning to face Tom, “You're grounded for now.”  
“Grounded. . .”  
“To your room.” Bill clarified, “I can't trust you with your freedom anymore. Until my new tool arrives, I'm afraid I can't let you out.”  
Tom blinked, hardly comprehending the reprieve he was getting he was so blinded by disbelief. Grounded – like a little kid that had back-talked, or a teenager that had not gotten off the Xbox when he was told. This punishment was new territory – it was breaking past the barriers of their sex life and seeping into their public lives.  
Bill noted Tom's expression, and crossed his arms over his chest, “Is that not acceptable to you?”  
“It's just. . .We've never let this get into our real lives before.” Tom said, unable to keep that opinion to himself.  
Bill's eyes flashed darker, “Our real lives. . .And you don't think our sex is a part of our real lives? What is it to you? Some fantasy, some secret you have to keep hidden because you're ashamed?”  
“No! But it stays in the bedroom!” Tom exclaimed, rising from his chair, “Not letting me out of this house – that's crossing a line, Bill!”  
“You crossed the fucking line when you hooked up with that whore.” Bill growled, furiously, “How do I know I can trust you not to do it again?”  
“I thought that's what that beating was for last night. To set things right, for me to repent. . . That's what it always meant before!”  
“Oh trust me, the beatings are far from over.” Bill charged across the kitchen, bringing them toe-to-toe. Hot breaths gusted against each other's cheeks as their eyes met. Tom half expected Bill to lay hands on him.  
“This behavior stops now.” Bill ordered, taking a step back, “If not, you can find someone else to love, someone else to fuck, someone else who loves you no matter what. Someone else to sing for you.”  
“Oh no, this is not getting to the band!” Tom argued as Bill tried to brush past him.  
“It gets where you want it to.” Bill replied, harshly, “Now get out of my presence.”  
For some inexplicable reason, Tom obeyed. It was ingrained, etched into his skin, a part of his being to always obey Bill. He wanted to love and be loved, but only with Bill. He would do anything to preserve this relationship, even if it meant giving up his treasured freedom for a few days. After this quarantine, there was whatever tool Bill had obviously ordered offline last night. Tom had no idea what it could be . . . Maybe he didn't want to know.


	2. Not Without Me. . .

That night, Tom stayed up late into the night and retired to bed when he had finally exhausted himself too much to think about the situation with Bill. He fell asleep instantly, but was pursued by dreams he couldn't quite remember. They were opaque and distant, but he recalled the fear and longing. He remembered he didn't have Bill.  
Being grounded, Tom found no reason to drag himself out of bed. He woke at four thirty in the afternoon, but made absolutely no attempt to rouse himself. He lounged across his king-sized bed, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and pulled out his laptop to amuse himself. He listened to music without really hearing the words and went through e-mails he hadn't answered in ages. It was all mindless pursuit to forget what had happened with Bill. . .What he had done with that fangirl. He felt a little empty inside knowing that he would not be crawling in bed with Bill tonight, or any night in the near future, it seemed. Bill was going to punish him severely, not just for one day, or one night. He had sinned terribly, and if there was one thing Bill had taught him – no, hammered into his brain – there was always consequences.  
When Tom finally came to the acceptance that he could not fix this problem with apologizing or giving his body to the pain, he became a bit desperate. He lay paralyzed against the sheets, his mind spinning out of control. He felt as if the one constant in his life was suddenly slipping out of his grasp. He needed Bill to survive, needed him to draw breath, and remember there was some things worth fighting for.  
Tom grabbed his laptop and began to search through folders, the ones he had buried so that no one would ever see. At last, he came upon the folder that contained all the pictures he had taken of Bill, or the ones Bill had taken of himself and sent to Tom. They ranged from normal, brightly smiling Bill to nude Bill, aroused Bill. . .Bill covered in cum. It was his own personal stash of porn, one he hardly ever had to go to. Now, he felt desperate to feel even the smallest connection to his twin. He needed this, if only to convince himself that Bill would always be there.  
Tom looked through several of the pictures, dwelling on the raunchiest and tried to form the thread of a fantasy. It was rough, considering his backside still smarted from the beating and that Bill was yet to forgive him, but Tom was determined. His dick twitched to life almost by sheer willpower alone. Tom plunged his hands beneath his sweatpants and tugged at his hardening cock. He thought about Bill fingering him, sucking on him, then fucking the life out of him – regular occurrences before this madness started. His cock got the message, giving a hearty spasm in the circle of his hand.  
Tom closed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he could. It wasn't bound to be the best, or most gratifying climax ever, but he felt as if he needed it. He needed to feel close to Bill, even if it was only in his head.  
He quickly stripped out of his pants and threw them across the bed. He stretched his legs out and grabbed at his balls with his other hand. His fingers nudged up against his hole, causing the tight flesh to clamp down in response. Pleasure flitted across his nerve-endings, but lingered just far enough away for climax to elude him. Panting and groaning louder, Tom pumped his dick with quick, hard jerks of his hand, enticing his unconvinced genitals to spill their load everywhere.  
“Come on, come on. . .” He chanted between gritted teeth.  
He could feel the frustration welling up in his chest. Drawing in deep breaths, he tried to relax and let it happen naturally. At this point, however, he was so worked up, he didn't know if determination was enough. His wrist was starting to hurt and the sensitive skin of his dick was beginning to burn from the rough friction. He needed lube, something Bill always provided. He needed stimulation – Bill. He needed to cum, a direct result of being with Bill.  
“Jesus! Fuck!” Tom cried in vexation.  
He couldn't even cum without Bill? This was ridiculous!  
He set his hand to rubbing once more, determined to get off without Bill's assistance. This absolute dependence could not be his life. He was not some insecure, needy person that needed companionship to happily exist. He was Tom Kaulitz, a rockstar, a playboy, a rebel that did what the fuck he wanted!  
Tom's eyes jarred open when the sound of the door opening sliced through the haze of wild need, and frustrated ranting. With a gasp, he tore his hand away from his hard cock and met Bill's surprised gaze. He began to sputter, trying to explain himself, embarrassed and horrified that Bill had walked in on him. He grabbed at the sheets, trying to cover his already flagging erection.  
Bill crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow, “I came up here to ask if you wanted something to eat, but I see that you're occupied.”  
“I was. . .I was just trying to. . .” Tom's tongue seemed to be working opposite of his thoughts. He held the bunched sheets around his waist, wishing they could also shield the ashamed flush creeping up his cheeks.  
“Trying to cum without me.” Bill finished, knowingly.  
Tom let out a sigh and dropped his gaze to his lap. What was he supposed to say? He hadn't felt the need to jerk off in a long time because he had always had Bill to do that for him. Without Bill, there was this – struggling and fighting to cum as if his dick were broken.  
Bill pushed away from the door frame and sauntered across the room. He was dressed in gray skinny jeans a tank-top that had seen several years of bumming around the house. The neckline was battered, showing off the top half of Bill's smooth, firm chest.  
“Let me see.”  
Tom swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the sheets.  
Bill waited a few beats before repeating, “Tom, let me see.”  
Tom closed his eyes and pried his fingers away from the sheets. He felt the cool brush of Bill's fingers, pushing the sheets away from his crotch. Tom hardly dared to open his eyes, afraid to see the satisfied, knowing smirk when Bill laid eyes on his flaccid cock.  
A gasp rose in his throat when he felt the smooth texture of Bill's palm up against his cockhead. The blood instantly rushed downward, reshaping his erection until it was nudging in needy pulses up against Bill's hand.  
Tom let out a soft whimper as Bill's hand circled his cock and gave it a slow, firm tug. The inevitable stroke of his thumb came upward, over the head. The tip of his nail made a circuit around the rim, scraping so gently it almost tickled. Tom's hips rose up off the bed, begging for Bill's touch.  
Tom felt his body fall back against the sheets, all his muscles losing their strength when Bill's lips met with Tom's cock. His lower lip rubbed back and forth, picking up pre-cum and smearing it around with his saliva. Tom's fingers curled around the sheets and his hips strained upward. A strangled noise worked its way up his throat as Bill opened his mouth to Tom's swelling cock. The wet heat of Bill's mouth clamped down around him, sucking him down with smooth expertise. Tom reached down to grab at Bill's hair, only to find himself groping at empty air when Bill pulled back.  
“Is that what she did for you?”  
The question put a choke hold on Tom's desire. His eyes popped open and he found himself gazing into Bill's accusing eyes.  
“Is that what that whore did for you? Was she your little cum bitch, sucking it down like a hooker?”  
Tom felt his nostrils flare and fresh heat blaze across his cheeks. He opened his mouth, but could find no reasonable answer.  
“Well, that's not what I'm going to do for you.” Bill rose from the bed, his expression disgusted.  
Tom began to protest, to argue that Bill couldn't get him halfway to climax and then leave him there. But Bill held up a hand to silence him.  
“Turn over.” he ordered.  
Tom's heart nearly stopped for a second before resuming a wild, drumming pace. He couldn't resist, and he definitely couldn't tell Bill no. Bill's order could mean one of two things – Tom was about to get spanked again, or Tom was about to get fucked. At this point, Tom wasn't sure if there were a better option.  
Tom hesitated for only a few seconds before rolling over. Here he was again, splayed out naked across his bed, just like last night. This time, he could only wonder what his Fate would be.  
Bill mounted his thighs, keeping Tom's legs pressed together instead of spreading them like he usually did. Grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed, Bill stuffed it under Tom's hips, pushing his ass up in the air. None too gently, he palmed Tom's ass, sending pain flaring across the flesh, still sensitive from last night's lashing. Tom released a quiet whimper, but quickly locked his mouth shut to prevent further sounds from forming.  
Without warning, Bill struck him, the flat of his palm greeting the already tortured flesh with precision. Tom thrashed beneath him, letting out a pained, startled cry.  
“Bill. . .Bill, please.. .” He was already begging, wondering if this was the start of his multiple day punishment.  
“Hush.” Bill ordered, “You're lucky I didn't have the foresight to bring the paddle.”  
“Please. . .” Tom whined, pressing his face to the sheets, “I'm sorry. . .”  
“For what?”  
“For. . .for jacking off. . .without you.” Tom whispered, knowing without Bill's saying that it had pissed Bill off.  
“That's a start.” Bill replied, darkly.  
His hand came down once more, resonating with a crack of flesh meeting flesh. Tom's hips bucked against the pillow and he clawed at the sheets. Pain and panic collided in his brain to create a reckless marriage of emotions. All at once, he was crying for mercy and screaming in anger that Bill had shown him none. He was writhing, trying to get away, but also locked in one place by his guilt.  
The spankings came slower than last night, punctuated by brief respites when Bill stroked the red, aching flesh or dropped a kiss along Tom's arching spine. It dragged out across several minutes until, at last, Tom lay weakly against the sheets, his ass arched compliantly above the pillow. His breaths came labored and weak, not quite sobs. He knew it was what Bill had come for – to make Tom submit completely, to take the fight out of him.  
Tom heard the sound of lube opening and lifted his head. He hadn't been expecting more than his daily dose of punishment, but Bill obviously had a greater plan.  
In the next moment, Tom felt lubed fingers press up against his hole, swiping along the tight bud before pushing inside. His resistance was little to nothing at all, even when Bill's fingernails scraped him, uncharacteristically careless. They knifed in and out of him, working his body open and forcing arousal to trickle down his cock. At last, Tom's body began to writhe, lifting his hips off the pillow until his ass was up, his cheeks open to expose his hole being slowly, deliberately fucked by Bill's fingers.  
“Please. . .” The word wrenched itself from Tom's throat.  
“Please, what?” Bill demanded, his fingers arching up against Tom's prostate.  
“Please. . . please if you're going to. ..” Tom squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed back a moan, “If you're going to fuck me. . .please, just do it. . .”  
“You want me to fuck you?”  
“Yes!”  
“Good.” Bill's hand wrapped around a handful of Tom's braids, pulling his head back, “I'm going to fuck you so hard it hurts. Do you hear me?”  
“Yes. . .”  
“I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.” Bill's voice dipped lower and he bit at Tom's earlobe.  
“No. . .” Tom shook his head, “Please. . .I want you.”  
Bill gave a sound of disgust and pushed Tom's face into the bed, “Eat sheet and don't move an inch until I'm done. Do you understand? All I need is your ass up and wide open for me.”  
“Yes, sir.” Tom murmured into the sheets.  
Bill snatched the lube from the sheets again and dragged a wet hand across his dick several times. He slid in closer, pressing the head against Tom's hole. With one, long thrust, he pushed all the way in. With Tom's legs trapped together beneath Bill's body, Bill's cock seemed much bigger, Tom's ass far too tight. Tom squirmed, trying to get his legs out from under Bill, but Bill grabbed his hips to hold him still. He delivered a few more thrusts before grabbing Tom's smarting ass and spreading his cheeks open. His nails dug in like claws, eliciting a sharp cry from Tom's lips.  
Bill set off at driving pace, his hips seating themselves against Tom's ass each time with a loud smack. The contact with the beaten flesh caused Tom to moan in pain each time, only to crescendo into a louder sound of pleasure when Bill's cock bumped up against his prostate.  
Bill leaned over him, on all fours now, giving each thrust more leverage. Tom tried to relax himself so that his body would loosen up, but the pain in his ass shattered his concentration each time. Even so, the erection begun by the aborted blowjob was swelling up even bigger. A steady throb began to radiate from his lower regions, giving him the impression that he was going to cum. Tom wondered if – hoped and prayed that – Bill would allow him that one privilege.  
Bill's thrusting became more ardent as his cock grew inside Tom's tight ass. He moaned quietly each time he entered, sounds that usually made Tom launch into orgasm. Tom lifted his head from the sheets, trying to breathe and groan all at the same time. Bill grabbed him by the braids again, shoving his cheek against the mattress, growling, “Take it!”  
Tom tried rolling his hips up against Bill's cock, but he could hardly move between the pillow and Bill. He was desperate to cum, even more so now that he had endured the spankings and the punishing fucking to get there. He knew Bill had good reason to be angry, but it would be so cruel go through the entire process only to leave Tom with a hard dick.  
The hard thrusting continued for a few more minutes until Bill pulled back. Tom wanted to scream and pound his fists into the mattress. Bill could not be stopping! Tom only needed a few more moments!  
Bill dismounted him and pushed Tom onto his back. His hair was disheveled and falling all across his forehead and his cheeks and neck were deeply flushed. A wild, glazed look rested like a sheen over his eyes; for a second Tom wondered how in control Bill really was. He always acted so calm, so knowledgeable and in control. But now. . . .  
Bill's legs parted across Tom's chest and his dick hit Tom in the mouth.  
“Suck it. . .” Bill ordered, urging his straining cock against Tom's lips, “Come on, suck me!”  
Tom opened his mouth and took Bill's cock in, more unwilling than he had been in years. Usually, he liked sucking Bill off because he knew no one else could, or ever would. But now, that knowledge was just a reminder of what Tom had done.  
Tom's mouth endured only a few jerky thrusts of Bill's cock before he felt cum explode across his tongue. Bill pulled out, painting Tom's cheeks and mouth with abundant streams of cum. Tom tried not to twist away, but he hated it when Bill made a mess all over his face. He turned his face away, coughing and spitting cum on the sheets.  
Bill grabbed his cock and milked the last of the cum out onto Tom's neck before climbing off of Tom's chest. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, catching his breath. He reached over and put a hand on Tom's bare leg, “You belong to me, Tom. You always will.”  
Tom looked up at him, mutely. He knew that's what that fuck had meant; it hadn't been intimate or loving, not a testament of their enduring love as it normally was. It was a branding, like cattle being thrown to the ground and burned with hot iron. . . .A reminder that Tom wouldn't so easily forget this time.  
At last, he got up and gathered his pants off the floor. Tom watched with mounting horror and anger as Bill put his clothes back on, giving no indication that he was going to make Tom cum.  
With a flick of his wrist, he pointed a finger at the pictures of himself still displayed on Tom's computer screen, “Get rid of those.”  
Then, he turned and marched out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.  
Tom's mouth slid open in disbelief. His dick stood up hard and angry red against his stomach, demanding to be relieved of the aching pressure still resting there. His ass hurt and his pride was completely destroyed; he didn't know if he could even make himself cum.  
He laid an experimental hand on his cock and felt the blood still surging strongly through it. Closing his eyes, he wrapping his fingers fully around it and began to rub.  
It took another ten minutes, but he managed to get himself off. The orgasm was sadly lacking in gratification, and only served to relieve the pressure that had been pulsing from the tip of his cock to the base of his balls.  
After, he got up and went to the bathroom. He took more pain reliever and got in the shower, hoping to wash away not only the mess, but also the dirty, sickening feeling curling in his stomach. If only it were that easy. . . .

~

The next few days of Tom's imprisonment were torture. Both he and Bill were the kinds of people that liked to get out of the house on a regular basis; they hated staying in one place, especially when it was for a reason like this one.  
Scotty was his only companion through the long hours. He poured his heart out to the dog and cuddled his beloved pet to his chest, half-expecting even his most true friend to abandon him. He was convinced he had lost Bill; he couldn't lose Scotty too.  
Though Tom heard the death knell of their relationship in each of the few, clipped words they spoke to each other he still held onto the hope that all was not lost. He kept the pictures on his computer, now gazing at the ones of Bill's cheerfully smiling face rather than the nude photos. He wasn't ready to give up on Bill's love for him; they were twins, and twins were supposed to love each other unconditionally. They had survived so many storms, but none of this magnitude. Tom prayed to any god that would hear him that they could make it through this one.  
Finally, after four days, Bill called him downstairs. There was a packages delivered by the UPS sitting on the coffee table and Bill sat on the couch, staring at it. He had a pair of scissors out to cut the box open, but he hadn't yet begun to unwrap the new tool.  
Tom lingered in the doorway, gazing distrustfully at the box. He could only imagine what new torture lay inside the four, cardboard walls. The very thought made him sick to his stomach.  
“Come sit with me.” Bill patted the couch next to him.  
Tom balked. He couldn't believe Bill was treating this like Christmas, opening up a new present for both their enjoyment.  
Bill looked over his shoulder at Tom, eyes glazed with frustration, “Come over here.”  
Tom let out a sigh and walked across the room as slowly as possible. He sat down next to Bill and stared at the package, wanting to sink through the floor and disappear.  
Bill picked up the scissors and sliced through the masking tape until the four lids popped open. Whatever the tool was, it was surrounded by white foam to keep it from breaking or being damaged in the mail. Bill plucked the top piece of foam out of the package and tossed it aside. Tom leaned forward, his gut starting to clench once more as Bill lifted the plastic wrapped tool from the box.  
He flicked his gaze over to Bill as Bill cut open the plastic and withdrew the tool. Bill's expression was one of concentration, and if Tom were not mistaken, perverted pleasure.  
It didn't take Tom long to figure out what the tool was, and when the realization struck him, he started up off the couch, “No.” He began, backing away from the device, “You are not putting that on me.”  
Bill arched a skeptical brow, “Oh yes I am.”  
Tom wanted to say “Fuck you” and walk away. He wanted to grab the tool and beat Bill over the head with it. He wanted to scream that this wasn't fair. It was fucking torture and he wasn't gonna take it!  
Then, he recalled that girl's head bobbing over his cock, and the thought racing through his brain, He'll never know. He remembered the look of pain and betrayal on Bill's face when he had finally revealed that he knew.  
This was penance, a very long, painful penance. But one that he fully deserved.  
“For how long?” Tom asked, breathlessly.  
“Until I can trust you again, I suppose.” Bill replied.  
“How will know when you can trust me again if I'm trussed up in that thing?” Tom demanded.  
“Well, I certainly can't trust you now. . .”  
“How many times have I apologized?” Tom asked, trying to keep his voice from getting to loud, angry, “You've punished me twice already. . .and now this?”  
“What would you do?” Bill asked, rising from the couch, “What would you do if you found out I had cheated on you?”  
The question stopped Tom's indignant thoughts cold. He had never imagined such a scenario because it was so improbable. He had taken all of Bill's firsts – the kiss, the orgasm, the sex. He was the only one that had ever touched Bill sexually. The very idea of another man or woman laying a finger on his beautiful, perfect twin sent rage boiling through his blood.  
Bill quickly read Tom's expression and gave a nod, “You see. . .That scenario you're playing out in your head. . .that's about a fraction of what I'm feeling. So don't come bitch to me when you haven't cum for a week.”  
He shoved the chastity belt against Tom's chest, “We're putting this on you. Now.”


	3. Trapped

Tom's first thought upon waking up the next morning was his dick – his trapped, aching dick beginning to spasm against the restricting tube of the chastity belt with the first flare of morning wood since their argument had begun.   
Sleep fled as he realized what was happening. He reached down to grope for his cock, only to meet smooth steel that locked his desperate attempts at growing an erection from becoming reality. Dismayed, he let his hand fall to the bed, and he stared at the ceiling with wet eyes.   
If he had thought being grounded for four days was torture, he had never imagined what wearing the chastity belt would be like. Bill had complete control of him, even when Bill wasn't in the same room. He had the keys that would open the belt, releasing Tom's struggling dick. . . And Tom knew he wasn't about to do that. Tom couldn't use the restroom, or shower without asking Bill's permission; that was almost worse than the inability to get hard. He had surrendered his life to Bill's control by putting the belt on. . .by bringing that girl home.   
Tom got out of bed slowly, wincing as each stepped rubbed his cock the wrong way. The constant contact around his dick was torturous; it kept his mind on that one part of him, taunting him, teasing him with a caress that only kept him flaccid.   
Tom entered the kitchen and found Bill sitting at the counter, flipping absently through a fashion magazine. All he was wearing was a pair of track pants and the cross and pendant necklaces he constantly wore. The bare expanse of his back was in full view, causing Tom's cock to twitch demandingly against the barriers of the chastity belt.   
Bill looked up when he realized Tom had entered, “Do you need to use the restroom?”   
Tom nodded in a couple jerky motions, his cheeks flushing.   
Bill slid down off the stool and breezed past Tom. He walked to the bathroom with swinging hips and reached into his pocket for the keys. Tom followed slowly, keeping his eyes on the ground. He didn't want Bill to see how emasculated he felt; it would only satisfy Bill even more.   
Bill was waiting for him when he finally dragged his feet into the bathroom. They stood in tense silence for several moments before Bill motioned with his hand, “Okay, take your pants off.”   
Tom closed his eyes and tried to breathe without sobbing in shame. He could do this; for ever how long Bill took to get over the breach of trust, Tom had do this. He would never have his twin back if he didn't. He would never forgive himself if he didn't.   
Tom bent and tugged his sweatpants down, leaving him clothed in only the chastity belt. Bill stepped forward until their bodies were almost touching and twisted the key in the small padlock on Tom's left hip. The metal clicked open, relieving only half the pressure. Bill moved to Tom's right hip and unlocked the second padlock. He carefully slid the belt from Tom's cock and dragged the back attachment from between Tom's legs. Tom grabbed at the counter, holding himself steady as relief surged through his veins.   
Bill's hands lingered on him, one thumb dragging across his hipbone before he stood back. He looked slightly shaken as he pointed at the toilet, “Go ahead.”   
“Wait. . .” Tom's eyes opened quickly, “You're not going to leave? I can't even have my privacy?”   
“No.” Bill's voice was much softer than Tom's irritated tone, but commanded Tom to silence. For only a second, Tom saw a flash of hurt and anger in Bill's eyes before the shield dropped once more. He shook his head and repeated, “No.”   
Tom wanted to argue. He wanted to push Bill out of the bathroom and burn the fucking chastity belt. But his emotions were in such turmoil these days, he wasn't even sure he was making conscious decisions anymore. He was just acting on instinct, a mistake he had already made. A choice that had led them here.   
Tom turned to the toilet, trying to recall the intense urge to relieve himself that he had woken up with. He could feel Bill's eyes on him, gathering the tension in his muscles before he even realized he was panicking for the hundredth time with week.   
He shook his head vehemently, “Bill, I can't do this. . .”   
“Yes you can.” Bill laid a soft hand on his back, “Just pretend I'm not here.”   
“But you are.” Tom replied in a ragged whisper.   
“Remember when we were kids and we used to share the bathroom all the time?” Bill asked, gently, “It's just like that. Okay?”   
Tom gave a nod. Bill stepped back and leaned against the wall. He began inspecting one nail, infuriatingly casual. Tom closed his eyes and concentrated on his bladder. He had to go, he really did, but with Bill present. . .  
He forced his muscles to relax, and located the urge that was imprisoned by his pride. At last, he felt his muscles let go. Shaking, he opened his eyes to make sure he was aiming correctly. It came in spastic trickles or uncontrollable streams, unable to find the comfortable in between with Bill's eyes on him. Tom swore under his breath. He couldn't even pee in a steady stream anymore!  
With the ordeal finally over, Bill instructed Tom to wash his dick before they put the belt back on. Bill was nothing if not studious about the toys they brought to bed. He read every warning label, took every possibility into account. Even in punishment, he made sure Tom wasn't in danger.   
It was almost disgusting how loyal Bill could be, Tom thought. Tom could treat him like dirt, hit him, swear at him, cheat on him and he still came back for more. Tom was lucky, really, to have someone like Bill. Most relationships would've been over by this point.   
Tom tried to be careful as he washed his cock, but the skin-to-skin contact quickly roused the deprived flesh. Blood flooded his cock with the simple caress of soap and water, leaving him almost completely hard in a matter of moments.   
Bill cast him an irritated glance, “Get that under control.”   
“I'm sorry. I'm trying.” Tom muttered, pressing his hand down on his cock to force it back into subjection.   
“This is why I put the belt on you.” Bill explained, motioning toward Tom's erection, “You're not aloud to cum until I say because you abused that right.”   
“And when will that be?” Tom asked, fearfully.   
“The chastity belt isn't to be worn for more than ten consecutive days-”   
“Ten days?” Tom burst out, “That's ridiculous!”   
“Is it?” Bill snapped, dark, condemning eyes turning on Tom like a blade slicing through his stomach, “I think it's only fair.”   
“No, that's. . .that's torture.” Tom argued, “Why don't you put this damn thing on and see how it feels? It's like putting your dick in a coffin, and it's gonna fucking die if I can't cum!”   
“It's not going to die.” Bill assured him, “And to answer your other question, I won't be putting it on because I'm not the one that cheated.”   
Tom shut his mouth, all reasonable argument fleeing in the face of that one damning piece of evidence. There would be no positive verdict for him. He was plainly guilty, with Bill as his witness.  
Bill grabbed the belt from the counter and held it out to Tom, “I would hold it next time if I were you. There's only so many times a day I'm willing to go through this process with you.” 

~

Tom hadn't devoted much time to thinking about how their argument would affect the band, but when Bill reminded him they had an interview to attend that week, he had expected more of a change in Bill's behavior. He knew Bill would do anything to keep Tokio Hotel going, as would Tom, but things changed. . .Their relationship had changed. With them both being a part of the band, Tom didn't know how they would still function as a unit, or manage to go on tour together. Acting normal around Georg and Gustav, the producers and promoters, and the rest of the crew would be next to impossible. The Humanoid City Tour was set to begin very soon; where Tom had once been excited out of his mind about touring again, he now dreaded the very thought of being cooped up in a bus with Bill for three straight months. It would be torture if they continued on the path they were on.   
The day of the interview, Bill announced that he was going to drive. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door while Tom tagged along behind.   
“Wait a minute.” Tom called, out weakly.   
Bill paused with his hand on the door knob, “Yes?”   
“Aren't you going to. . .to take this thing off of me?” Tom asked, hopefully.   
Bill sighed and turned around. He set his bag on the ground and walked back to where Tom lingered in the hall, wringing his hands. Bill placed a cool, silken hand on Tom's cheek and shook his head, almost a hint of compassion resting in his honey-brown eyes, “No, I'm afraid I can't do that.”   
“But. . . but. . .I-I can't go through an interview with-”   
“Yes you can.” Bill interrupted, reaching down to touch the titanium death-trap through Tom's jeans, “It's a part of you now, Tom. Until I say you can take it off for good, you'll go through whatever I say in it.”   
Tom wrenched away, breathing hard, angrily, “This is. . .is wrong.” He pointed a finger at the ground, “I won't be some weak, pathetic person you can manipulate!”   
“I'm not manipulating you.” Bill insisted, “I'm trying to teach you a lesson, one which you refuse to understand.”   
“I'm done with your fucking lessons, okay!?” Tom shouted, taking a threatening step forward, “This is bullshit.”   
“You see, that kind of behavior is exactly why I can't take it off.” Bill replied, motioning towards Tom's enraged countenance, “You've learned nothing from this!”   
“It's been three days.” Tom reminded him through clenched teeth, “I haven't cum for three whole days and I'm about to go insane! I think I've learned enough.”   
“You're missing the point completely, Tom.” Bill replied, “It's not about cumming. It's about when you cum, who you cum with. . .And that's me. Not anyone else. Just me. It was something you should've realized before bringing that whore home.”   
Tom had been waiting for Bill to play that card; it came up in every argument, every time Tom bucked against the rules. It was when he remembered why he was in this position, and that he deserved every second of it.   
“Fine.” He spat, “Let's go. We're gonna be late.”   
He brushed past Bill and stormed out to Bill's Audi, ignoring the feeling of the belt squeezing his dick with each stride. Bill was close behind him, a look of utter disappointment and frustration on his face.   
Silence ensued once they were both in the car. Tom sank down his seat, trying to act like he didn't care when all he wanted to do was fall at Bill's feet, begging for mercy and forgiveness.   
Tom gasped when he felt Bill's fingers close around his chin, dragging his face to look at Bill's. Bill's eyes were only inches away, spitting fire.   
“You can expect a beating when we get home.” He intoned, each word low and clipped, “I never stood for your disrespecting me before and I definitely won't stand for it now.”   
He let go of Tom's chin with a jerk and turned to start the engine with a hard twist of the keys. Tom gaped at him with mounting horror and panic. His ass had barely recovered from the two beatings Bill had administered before the chastity belt, and now Bill was going to pile on more on top of his intense need to cum. He could hardly fathom the pain, need, and desperation he would be experiencing after the newest lashing with the paddle.   
The ride to the venue was endured in stiff silence, no conversation, no music playing. Bill was peeved beyond recovery; Tom could only imagine how the interview would go.  
They met Georg and Gustav at the venue, and they passed around hugs and hellos. Much to Tom's surprise and disgust, Bill returned to his normal, exuberant self, chattering away with the G's as if nothing had happened. He and Gustav were discussing the upcoming tour when Georg elbowed a silent Tom in the ribs.   
“Hey, I texted you the other night and you never answered me. What happened?”   
Tom shrugged, “I was busy.”   
Georg grinned, “Late night?”   
Tom nodded and thrust his hands into his pockets. He was sure that everyone could see the bulge of the chastity belt beneath his jeans. His package felt huge with the added accessory, but no one else seemed to be paying special attention to his crotch. Even Georg and Gustav, who had known him for years, didn't seem to notice anything different about the size and shape of his package.   
Georg began to tease him about that “late night,” and Tom wanted to turn around and shake his friend. He wanted to scream, “It was a late night because I couldn't fucking sleep with this cage squeezing the life out of my dick! I haven't cum in three days and I'm about to go crazy!”   
Instead, he mumbled something positive in return and was relieved when a representative from the TV channel came back to tell them everything was ready for the interview.   
The group was arranged on a couch across from the interviewer, in a private room. Tom was relieved it wasn't a live show with screaming fans and autographs to be signed afterword. He didn't know if he could handle the pressure without snapping into a million ragged, desperate pieces. He tried to act normal and casual through the whole interview, inwardly convinced that the kind lady interviewing them was staring at his steel-laden crotch. The very thought that someone knew about the device strapped to his dick and shoved up between his butt cheeks made his stomach do cartwheels. On top of that was the reminder that he was going to take another beating when they got home. That fact almost made him want the interview to go on forever.   
The cheery lilt of Bill's constant talking was starting to grate on his nerves, but he couldn't bring himself to be a part of the conversation. He had nothing to say about the tour because right now, he didn't even want to go on it. Not with Bill, not like this.  
When at last the interview concluded, they thanked the interviewer and bid Georg and Gustav farewell. Bill seemed to be in a better mood as they walked out to the car.   
“That went well, I think.” He said.   
Tom shrugged. He would probably look back at the interview later and realize that it had been terrible, at least on his part.   
“Tom,” Bill grabbed his hand to stop him.   
Tom turned, surprised by the intimate gesture.   
“I'm sorry for losing my patience with you.” He sighed, pulling Tom closer to him, “I've been doing that a lot lately, and I can't seem to get it under control. Silly, right?”   
Tom shook his head, feeling tears clog his throat, “No, it's my fault.”   
Bill looked sad as he drew Tom into a hug, “I still love you, Tomi.”   
Tom grasped at Bill's shirt, pulling his brother close, trying to absorb everything about him. The smell, the texture of his skin, the warmth of his body, down to the tickle of his hair against Tom's cheek. It was the intimacy Tom had been craving for days, wondering if there was still any left between them.   
“I love you, too.” He croaked, feeling a tear break free of his eyelid.   
Bill stroked the back of his head and patted his back, “I promise, this time I won't punish you out of anger.”   
Tom closed his eyes, feeling his heart plummet. He should've known that just because Bill decided to be nice didn't mean Tom had escaped punishment. There were rules in this relationship – giving and taking, obeying and rebelling, reward and punishment. There was a balance of power that, if upset, could ruin everything they had worked so hard for. Right now, the balance was disturbed and Tom's behavior over the past few days had done nothing to set it right again. He knew he had to be punished, if only to make him realize that Bill, not Tom, was in charge, on top, making the commands. When he accepted that fact once more, he might need a dozen more beatings to bring his wayward heart and mind back under Bill's control.   
“Let's get home and get this over with.” Bill suggested, softly.   
Tom nodded, weakly.   
They got back in the car and Bill guided the Audi back onto the freeway. He reached over and squeezed Tom's hand, a reassuring gesture that had nearly been habit before Tom had rebelled. He squeezed back, hoping that Bill could feel his repentance in the contact.   
“What changed your mind?” He asked, his voice raspy with emotion.   
“What do you mean?” Bill asked, glancing over at him.   
“You were. . .really pissed off before we left.” Tom replied, “I thought I was in for another terrible ass-whipping.”   
Bill sighed and shook his head, “It was your comment about being done with my lessons. . .I had time to think about it on the drive over here, and I realized I've been wrong. Lessons have to be taught gently, with love. . .I haven't been loving you at all. I've just been taking my anger out on you and abusing my power to make you pay for cheating. It was wrong of me, I know, and I feel terrible now.”   
Tom blinked rapidly, in disbelief that Bill was once more apologizing to him. He couldn't say anything, just squeeze Bill's hand tighter.   
“From now on, I'm going to teach with love.” Bill nodded, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel, “Well, I'm going to try. . .I'm only human, right?”   
Tom stared at his shoes, suddenly very ashamed. How had he ever strayed away from someone as perfect and self-sacrificing as Bill? Bill had given him everything; he had given him love, intimacy, a relationship no one else in the world could give him. He had given Tom his freedom, and Tom had gone and thrown that gift into the dirt because he couldn't have a bit of patience.   
Bill glanced over at Tom, perplexed by his reticence, “Are you okay?”   
Tom swallowed hard, “I'll wear it for as long as you want.” He whispered.   
“I'm sorry?”   
“The belt.” Tom looked up at Bill with pleading eyes, “I'll wear it as long as you want. Just please, forgive me. Take me back. . .I promise, I will never leave you again.”   
Bill nodded, slowly, “I have to be honest, Tom. I don't know if I have forgiven you yet. I still feel a little betrayed, hurt. . .but I'm trying.”   
Tom nodded, “I know. Thank you.”   
When they arrived home, Tom went up to his bedroom straightaway, eager to get the punishment done and over with. He was already stripped down to the chastity belt when Bill entered, the paddle dangling from one hand. He closed the door softly behind him and walked over to Tom, who sat on the edge of the bed, his head down. He laid a hand on Tom's head and pulled him forward until Tom's forehead was against his stomach. Tom slowly reached up to grasp Bill's hips, pressing his face into the warmth of Bill's stomach. Bill stroked his head gently, “You're going to be okay.”   
Tom nodded, tightening his grip on Bill's hips.   
Bill bent to plant on kiss on Tom's crown. He murmured, “You need to lay down now.”   
Tom grudgingly let go of Bill and slowly turned onto his stomach. His pulse was pounding wildly as it always did right before a harsh paddling, but the fear and hatred was gone. He was ready to accept the punishment if it meant getting Bill back.   
Bill sat down next to him, laying on a soft hand on his back, “I know I said this, but I love you, Tom. Let's try to make this the last time for awhile, okay?”   
Tom nodded against the sheets, “Okay.”   
“We're going to do ten.” Bill informed him, “Five for arguing and five for being rude.”   
Tom curling his fingers around the sheets, bracing himself for the impact of the paddle. He was never truly ready for it; the first one always hurt the most, made him cry the loudest, but the illusion of preparedness seemed to ease the humiliation.   
With a loud crack, the paddle struck his skin, reawakening the battered nerve-endings. Tom let out a strangled cry and jerked against the bed.   
“One.” Bill counted softly.   
No, no, no. . .Tom hated it when Bill counted out the spankings; it only made them last longer, the numbers stretch before him to infinity. He was sure Bill was aware of the fact.   
A second spanking came down hard, and then a third, each followed by Bill's gentle counting. The skin had hardly begun to heal, causing even the few spankings to burn and sting like hell. Tom felt like a heap of frayed nerves and unsatisfied desire, ready to explode at any second. He was back to where he had been before, needing Bill so desperately, even the firey spankings made his groin lurch with lust. He could feel himself growing tight down there, trying and trying to get hard with the belt holding him down. The more aroused he became by the spankings the tighter the chastity belt became and the louder Tom began to moan.   
Bill progressed through the first five at a steady rate, but as they passed into the sixth spanking, Tom felt paddle come down harder, faster. He whined and bucked each time the smooth wood met with his ass. This time, he didn't need a pillow shoved under him to get his ass in the air, begging for the punishment. He dug his knees into the bed and levered himself up, presenting the red, swollen flesh to the harsh blows of the paddle.   
Bill's fingers curled around his side and he scooted in closer, his knee sliding under Tom's upraised hips. He pulled Tom over his knee and brought the paddle down harder.   
“Ooh. . .ooh Bill. . .” Tom began to moan.   
He buried his flushed face in the sheets and rutted against Bill's leg, searching for contact with his cock. He wanted to feel Bill's skin against his, needed so badly to be hard.   
The paddle crackled loudly against his skin, eliciting a sharp cry. He thrashed against Bill's leg, his nails clawing at the sheets. His mind was spinning like a carousel, turning so fast with the pain and pleasure he could hardly discern the two. There was so much pent up desire, anger, and need inside him he wanted to let Bill throw him down and fuck him, and push and punch Bill out of the room all the same time. He hated that he depended this much on his brother, that Bill could reduce him to nothing but a mess of sobbing desire and need in a few short moments. But he couldn't deny that he wanted it more than anything else in the world. He couldn't convince himself to stay mad at Bill; he just needed him too much.   
Finally, the last spanking fell and Bill dropped the paddle to the sheets. He slid his leg out from under Tom and stretched out to cradle Tom trembling body against his chest.   
“You're okay.” He murmured, stroking Tom's braids and dashing tears from his cheeks, “I've got you.”   
Tom clung to Bill with all strength, knowing it could be the last time for awhile. He was still on punishment even if Bill had decided to change his methods and motivations. Bill was strict about the rules, even if he, too, wanted to give in.   
“I'm sorry.” He sobbed, pressing his wet cheeks against Bill's chest, “I'm so sorry.”   
“It's okay.” Bill began to rock him gently, “I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere.”   
Tom hiccuped in several deep breaths, trying to get control of himself. He didn't even know where to begin to put the scattered parts of himself back together. He was broken; Bill had completely broken him, as he was sure had been the intention from the beginning.   
“Please, I need you. . .” Tom moaned, pushing himself in needy thrusts against Bill's body.   
The chastity belt kept him from doing anything remotely sexy with his cock, but the simple, familiar motion was comforting.   
Bill reached down and grasped one aching butt cheek. He pulled Tom's leg up around his waist and guided his hips in a slower version of Tom's desperate humping. Tom buried his face in Bill's neck and let it go on, despite the torture that the action meant nothing for his unsatisfied dick.   
“You want me to fuck you?” Bill murmured in his ear.   
Tom nodded, quickly.   
Bill let out a sigh and pushed Tom's leg down. Desperation clawed at Tom's insides as Bill sat up, leaving Tom with empty arms. He grabbed at Bill's shirt, “Please, don't leave.”   
“Tom.” Bill sighed, stroking his cheek, “You're on punishment, honey.”   
Tom blinked hard to dispel tears of sexual frustration, “But. . .I. . .”   
“No.” Bill said, softly, “Maybe later. Right now, you need to rest.”   
“Rest?” Tom echoed, “How can I rest when all I can think about is fucking you. . . something. . .anything! I can't stand it!”   
“You said you would wear it for as long as I said.” Bill reminded him.   
“I know.” Tom whispered.   
“I'm going to get you some pain reliever and then I want you to lie down and get yourself calmed down okay?”   
Tom swallowed hard and stared at the pattern of the bed sheets. Everything hurt – his backside from the spanking, his cock from being trapped, his head from crying, his mind from thinking in circles for over a week. . .Maybe Bill was right. He hadn't slept right in days.   
Bill patted his cheeks gently and then rose to get the pain killer. Tom fell back against the sheets and wearily closed his eyes. He was exhausted, mentally and physically; he didn't know how much more he could take.   
Bill came back with the pain killer and Tom obediently swallowed them back. Then Bill laid him down, kissed cheek and forehead softly and left the room. It was dark, peaceful in the room, and Tom was relieved of the burden of Bill's hatred toward him. Things were starting to go back to normal.   
At last, the stress and sleepless nights caught up with Tom. He fell asleep thankful that Bill had finally forgiven him and didn't wake up until the morning.


	4. Breaking Down

The next day, when Bill took the belt off so that Tom could shower, Tom didn't have one second to control his body's response. He was hard in an instant, encouraged by the feeling of Bill's eyes on him. Bill sighed, tempted. Then he just shook his head, “Am I going to have to come in there with you?”   
Tom's fingers grasped loosely at the hem of Bill's shirt, “Not if you make sure I cum for you. . . right now. . .Please?”   
“Is that why you want me to take you?” Bill murmured, “So you can cum really good?”   
Tom frowned, his erection beginning to flag when he noted the distaste in Bill's voice.   
“But. . .but I thought. . .” He began, confused.   
“How long have I been your Master for?” Bill dragged his fingers across Tom's cheek, “I thought I taught you better than that.”   
“I don't understand.” Tom whined, grasping tighter at Bill's shirt to keep Bill at his side.   
“I want you to want me because I am your Master.” Bill's thumb slid over Tom's quavering, lower lip, “Not because you haven't cum in four days and your body is screaming for it.”   
“But, I. . .” Tom began to shake his head, “I love you, Bill. I do want you, as my Master, as my brother, my everything. . .Please. . .”   
Bill gazed at him warily, not completely convinced by his pleading. Then he motioned to the shower and turned to leave, “Come to me later, Tom, when you have nothing left. Not even that hard dick of yours.”   
Then he left, trusting Tom once more not to abuse his freedom. It was crazy; he was still denying Tom his much-needed orgasm and yet, he left Tom alone when he could very well make himself cum with the shower to wash away the evidence. Tom was confused, but above all, he was drained. He didn't even know if he had the power to make himself cum without Bill being present. Bill was what drove his sexual impulses, what harnessed his body to unbelievably gratifying pleasure, what made the taboo of their relationship worth it. If Bill could see into his thoughts, his heart, wouldn't he realize Tom had already come to that point of desperation? When he had nothing, not even his hard dick. . .  
Tom got in the shower and washed himself quickly, not laying one finger on his dying erection. He knew that in a few minutes, it was going to be trapped again, locked away in that steel dungeon with no air to breath, no skin to touch. . .He should've taken the chance and jacked himself off – any sane person would've cum ten times while Bill wasn't watching. But Tom found his desire dwindling and starving without the proper stimulation. He simply couldn't touch himself without imagining the punishment, the disappointment and arguments that would follow. Bill would find out somehow, just as he had found out about the girl, and all their progress would be undone.   
Tom got out of the shower and put the belt back on by himself, convinced to do things right this time. It had come down to waiting the last time, and he had made the wrong choice. Not this time.   
He exited the bathroom wearing just the belt and found Bill in the den, working on his laptop. He turned when Tom entered the room, arching his eyebrow at the sight of Tom already wearing the chastity belt.   
“I didn't touch myself.” Tom said, “You can scour that bathroom and me for signs of cum, but you won't find any.”   
Bill nodded, slowly, “I see.”   
“I'll wait, Bill.” Tom held up his hands, “As long as you want to wait, I'll be right here.”   
He turned and left the den, surprised that he had found the restraint to make his statement to Bill the truth. It would've been easy to give in, like he had with the girl. But recalling all he had gone through in the past few days had made putting off cumming another day worth it. Tom wouldn't jeopardize their relationship again, not for anything. Bill was his everything, and very soon, Bill would have to realize that he was the only thing that Tom wanted. 

~

The Humanoid City tour dates were closing in on them, but Tom hardly had the presence of mind to notice. His thoughts were focused on getting Bill back, and enduring through the torture of the chastity belt.   
It was now his sixth day of imprisonment, and he found himself going slightly mad. He wanted to fuck everything in sight, especially Bill, but things like the fluffy coverlet of his bed, and even the dogs were starting to look appealing. He was desperate, at the end of his rope.   
Bill announced that morning at breakfast that he had a meeting with Dean and Dan of Dsquared2 to attend to discuss his costumes for the tour. His mood had lightened through the past several days; the dark cloud that had hung over him through the first days of their argument was nearly gone. He bounced up next to Tom, carrying his third cup of coffee that morning.   
“Want to come with?”   
“Cum where?” Tom jarred himself from his thoughts, hearing Bill's words all wrong.   
Bill laughed his high-pitched cackle when he found something really amusing, “No, silly. Not cum. I asked if you want to come with me to the meeting?”   
“Oh, uh. . .sure.” Tom shrugged.   
To be honest, he was sick of sitting around the house thinking about his dick when it was totally obsolete. He would rather go out and do something if it would get his mind off the constant torture.   
It was another two hours before Bill got himself ready to go. Tom sat in the bathroom and watched his brother apply his makeup, quietly checking out Bill's ass from close-up while Bill was otherwise occupied. Tom knew he was torturing himself further, but he couldn't stop looking. He was so fucking horny he would rather soak in Bill's hotness than have nothing at all.   
Bill apologized several times for taking so long.   
“I just feel like I have to impress them.” He explained, motioning with his eyeliner, “They're fashion icons, Tom. I still can't believe we're friends with them!”   
“Yeah, it's great.” Tom shrugged.   
He wasn't that impressed by the fashion twins, but Bill was starstruck. Tom thought their fashion was odd, pointless, without any sense of comfort or relaxation. Besides, Tom wasn't used to Bill being fascinated with someone other than him.   
“Come on, Tom.” Bill laughed at his brother's nonchalance, “You should be thankful. They're doing all our costumes for the show.”   
“All your costumes.” Tom clarified, “I'll keep my own style, thank you.”   
“Oh, Tom.” Bill reached over to pat him on the head, “You're such a grandpa about your style.”   
And just like that, Tom had the old Bill back. It was almost like talking to Bill before he became Master, before the rules and punishments. Tom wondered – doubted – if that part of their relationship had also changed.   
When they finally got on the road, Bill drove, one hand on the wheel, the other over Tom's hand. Tom held on tightly, relieved that he at least had that contact back. He felt as if he was back to being a teenager again, when holding hands with Bill had seemed so exciting and bad. Now, the idea of just making out with Bill seemed far more appealing than even his younger, hornier self had imagined, probably because he knew what he was missing.   
When they arrived at Dan and Dean's studio, the twins had more coffee and donuts set out for Bill and Tom. Bill poured himself another cup of coffee and tore through two donuts in the first ten minutes of the meeting. Tom had never understood how such a slender person could eat so much. He only managed to get one donut down before he lost his appetite. He couldn't think past the tight ball of arousal that was constantly weighing his stomach down. Eating was next to impossible, and sleeping was growing increasingly difficult. All he could think about was getting off, any way, with anyone.   
He missed the entire discussion of the meeting. His mind was wrapped up in the jumbled mess of desire, need, frustration tangled up inside him. He stared at the smooth surface of the table and bounced his leg impatiently, unable to tear his gaze away from his crotch, where the belt rested just beneath. He wanted to reach underneath and tear it off and then throw Bill across this table. He would strip his little brother naked and fuck him in every position possible until Bill's cum made a mess everywhere and he was panting – no, begging for it – needing Tomi more desperately than Tomi had ever needed him. Then he would take Bill by the hair, push him to his knees, and shove his big, hard cock down the throat of that plush, pretty mouth. Bill would be moaning, pleading, but he would take it all. He would suck on Tom's cock till Tom came, and he would swallow it. He would like it. He would-  
“And Tom already has his own costumes. Don't you, Tom. . .Tom?”   
Tom jerked his head up to find Bill gazing at him questioningly. He quickly nodded, glancing over to see confused expressions on the faces of Dan and Dean. He flushed dark pink, wondering if Bill, or even one of the fashion twins, had been able to hear the heat and volume of his fantasy.   
“Sorry.” Tom muttered, “I need to use the restroom.”   
He rose from his chair and practically fled the room, breathing frantically. He crashed into the first bathroom he found and locked himself in the end stall. Leaning against the wall, he scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to dispel the wayward thoughts. Bill would be horrified if he ever found out the kind of thoughts Tom had been having in there. Not only were they disrespectful to his Master, they were also disrespectful during a meeting of such importance.   
Tom was only in the bathroom for a few moments when he heard the door open and boots click across the linoleum.   
“Tom, are you in here?” Bill's voice was concerned.   
Tom drew in a deep breath and unlocked the stall door. It swung open, revealing his hiding place to Bill. Bill stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He crossed his arms, leveling a questioning gaze in Tom's direction, “What happened in there?”   
“I'm sorry. You shouldn't have brought me.” Tom shook his head, “I don't know what I was thinking.”   
“Are you okay?” Bill asked, extending a hand to touch Tom's jaw, “I can cut this meeting short if you need to go home and rest-”  
“I don't want to rest.” Tom snapped, pulling face out of Bill's reach, “I want you.”   
Bill sighed and glanced away.   
“Goddamnit, Bill, how long are you going to do this for?” Tom demanded, “Haven't I paid enough already?”   
“Tom, please, have patience.”   
“Patience? I've been having patience for six days, Bill. Six whole days! I have been enduring and suffering, and waiting for you to-”   
“Stop!” Bill held up a hand, “I know, Tom. I know what I've been doing to you. . .”   
Tom frowned, watching as his strong, independent, infallible Master begin to crumble before his eyes. The mask was torn from Bill's face, and behind the make up, he was a lost little kid again, trying to find his place in the world. His big brown eyes gazed at Tom, empty and weak, no longer confident that he had all the right answers.   
“Bill. . .” Tom began, worriedly.   
“I. . .I don't know if I can do this anymore.” Bill whispered, holding up his hands, “I can't trust myself, Tom.”   
“What do you mean?” Tom asked, feeling a little panicked. Bill had been the Master for years, the dominant, the one in control. He always made the decisions for them, and usually it was for the best. If Tom lost what he depended on most, how was he to live?   
“You broke me.” Bill whispered, the words ending in a barely contained sob, “You've made me crazy. . .I couldn't stop myself from doing these things to you. I was angry, I just wanted to lash out and make you pay. . .I wanted to be a normal human being for once and take revenge!”   
“Don't say things like that.” Tom replied, his voice hoarse with anxiety.   
“But it's true, Tomi.” Bill insisted, his big, dark eyes shining with tears, “I can't be your Master anymore if I can't make the right decisions. You trusted me to always do that for you, and now I've done the worst things. I've taken advantage of you, hurt you. . .tortured you. . .”   
“Bill, please. You're wrong.” Tom grabbed Bill's hands, drawing him closer, “You made me realize. . . .What was it you said? I need to want you because you're my Master not just because I want to have a satisfying climax. And I've accepted that! I only want you, Bill.”   
Bill blinked rapidly, sending tears spilling down his flawless cheeks, “You have?”   
“Yes. Bill, please.” Tom ignored the fact that they were in a public restroom and dropped to his knees in front of Bill, placing himself lower than Bill to communicate his feelings, “Please, I need you.”   
Bill cradled Tom's face in his hands, a smile reaching past the fear in his eyes, “Then let's get out of here and go home as soon as we can.” 

~

The drive home was quiet, but this time, their clasped hands bespoke their love for each other, and the distance between them was only the physical separation, not the departure of their hearts. Tom's hand was sweaty in Bill's grasp, and he self-consciously wanted to tug his hand free and rub it on his pant leg. Bill held on tight, keeping Tom from performing that gesture, keeping him from doing anything but think about what would happen next.   
To be honest, Tom didn't know what was going to happen when they got home. Before, he had always known that Bill would be handing out the commands in his swift, precise voice, playing Tom like a puppet on his strings. . . But the foundation and structure of that relationship seemed to have vanished as if by some magical spell, leaving them both in uncharted territory. This part was what made Tom the most nervous; he was no longer afraid of how or when Bill would take him, if it would be in a mindset of forgiveness, or the lingering resentment of his betrayal. He had all but lost his Master to his own deceit and infidelity.   
Before, Tom had always thought that being the submissive was hard. There were so many rules to follow, so many things he could and couldn't do, not to mention keeping his pride in check so that he actually wanted to follow those rules. But Bill's confession had completely changed his point of view. Being a Master was kind of a like being a god, it seemed. Tom had to obey, but Bill had to make the right decisions in the first place, the kind that would nurture the submissive, and make the obedience seem like a pleasure, not a burden. It was a side of Bill that Tom had never seen; after all that had happened, he wished he had seen it before.   
By the time they reached the house, Tom was a sweating mess of nerves, pounded to death by the wild beating of his own heart. He was loathe to let go of Bill's hand for even once second, but he had to surrender his grip to get out of the car. They walked briskly to the house and Bill unlocked the door with a trembling hand. Tom had never seen Bill so broken down, and obviously desperate. It was strange to watch those usually steady, strong hands quiver with. . .what? Fear, desperation, need? Tom couldn't be sure.   
The house was quiet, the dogs lazing through the afternoon in their beds. The only sounds were their footfalls and labored breathing. Bill mounted the stairs that led up to the bedroom, his hand latched securely around Tom's. They got up to the hallway when Tom was suddenly overcome by need he had been containing for days. He grabbed Bill's arm and pulled him around, boldly crowding his brother up against the wall. Bill didn't argue like he might have before. Instead, he grabbed at Tom's face and braids, his mouth rushing in to smash up against Tom's. Their lips met in a heated embrace, teeth scraped, tongues arching out for contact.   
“Mm, mm. . .” Tom moaned as the delicious taste of Bill flooded his senses.  
He groped at Bill's chest and waist, feeling his lungs expanding rapidly as the kiss grew more and more intense. Their tongues clashed and stroked, drawing in each other's saliva and probing for more. Bill's teeth clamped down on Tom's lower lip, sending delightful pricks of pain and pleasure from his mouth all the way down to his imprisoned cock. He bit back, leaving Bill's upper lip red and swollen, and his little brother moaning, almost growling, in desire.   
Bill gave Tom a push and slammed them into the opposite wall, reasserting his dominance. He wrapped his fingers in a handful of braids and tugged Tom's head back. His mouth dived down to explore the pounding pulse that lined Tom's gasping throat, his lips sucking and his teeth nipping. Tom moaned aloud as the sensation sent shivers racing down his spine. His cock twitched painfully in the confines of the chastity belt, driving him mad with desire. He clawed at Bill's body, dragging his shirt open and tugging at Bill's nipples.   
Bill squealed and moaned, arching up against Tom, grinding his erection into Tom's shielded crotch. He panted hard, lips sending hot breaths out across Tom's mouth and cheeks, “Tomi. . .Oh God. . .”   
Emboldened, Tom tweaked Bill's sensitive nipples harder, dragging his thumbs across the hardened peaks and letting go only to deliver a hard flick.   
“Jesus. . .” Bill moaned, his teeth scraping at Tom's throat and up to his earlobe. He breathed into Tom's ear, “Let's go to the bedroom.”   
Tom grudgingly released Bill's hard, red nipples and followed Bill's impatient steps to the bedroom. Bill went to the dresser where they kept the lube and searched for it while Tom came up behind him. He pressed his hands across Bill's smooth, lower stomach, feeling the trembles welling inside. Nipping at the prominent curve of Bill's ear, he whispered roughly, “Please. . .Take this thing off of me.”   
Bill snatched the lube from the dresser and pushed the drawer shut. He turned in Tom's embrace and delivered a hard kiss. When he pulled back, he hooked his chin toward the bed, “Strip and I will.”   
Tom gave a quick nod and began to divest himself of his clothing, pushing his shoes off toe-to-heel while he threw his shirt across the room. He popped the button of his jeans with nimble fingers and drew his jeans and boxers down in one motion. He was left in the gleaming, steel belt, his wicked companion over the last several days.   
Bill produced the keys from his pocket and quickly popped open the padlocks, freeing Tom's burgeoning cock. He slowly released Tom's cock from the plastic tube and set the belt aside, no longer interested in the device. Tom let out a moan of delight and reached down to touch him for the first time in over a week.   
“Let me.” Bill slapped his hands away.   
Tom nodded eagerly and slid back onto the bed. Bill removed the rest of his clothing and crawled onto the bed after Tom, his hands closing in greedily around Tom's growing cock. The rush of blood going through the flesh had never felt so good, and Bill's touch was like a slice of heaven. Tom knew he wasn't going to last very long, but at this point, he didn't give a shit. He just wanted to cum. He wanted it to be with Bill, only Bill.   
“Mmm, oh yeah. . .” Bill encouraged, his fingers drawing tight around Tom's swollen cock, “Get hard for me, baby.”   
“I am. . .” Tom panted, thrusting his hips up against Bill's strong, unerring touch.   
“Harder, baby.”   
Bill's hand slid into a quick, pumping rhythm that had Tom moaning loudly in seconds. The desperation that had been with him all week was suddenly multiplied by a hundred. He wanted it so bad; he wanted it now!  
“I wanna cum. . .” Tom moaned, thrashing against the pillow, “Bill, please. . .”   
“You're gonna cum, darling.” Bill murmured, dragging his thumb firmly over the leaking head. His fingers tugged back foreskin and his nail dipped underneath, scraping just enough to hurt and thrill his body with pleasure all at the same time.   
Tom nearly screamed, his hips bucking wildly. He grabbed at Bill, his fingers sliding into the thick, dark strands. Much to Tom's surprise, Bill followed his lead, allowing Tom to drag his mouth down, over Tom's hard, dripping cock. Tom opened his eyes to watch as Bill dragged his lips all over the tip, glossing them with pre-cum and pouring hot breaths over Tom's aching flesh.   
Tom whimpered, his hips riding up to get his cock in Bill's mouth faster, “Please. . .please. . .” He panted, his fingers tightening on Bill's hair.   
Bill opening his mouth up and took Tom down, submerging the throbbing column in the velvet heat of his mouth. Tom shuddered deep inside, felt his groin start clamping down in pleasure. He was going to cum fast, perhaps faster than he ever had before.   
Bill sucked loudly on his dick and dragged his tongue all over it like a Popsicle, making satisfied noises all the while. Tom grasped at Bill's hair, his hips jerking up at Bill's mouth uncontrollably. It felt so damn good; better than he had ever imagined while trapped inside the belt. He had thought about it and thought about it, but this was never the scenario he had imagined.   
Bill put his mouth back around Tom's cock and turned his head, pressing the head up into his cheek. He cast Tom a heated gaze and mumbled around a cheek full of dick, “Oh, Tomi. . .”   
Tom rose from the sheets, moaning and thrusting for all it as worth. Bill swallowed him down, his throat opening up the desperate intrusions. He gave several hard sucks, keeping Tom's cock lodged in his throat, his nose pressed up against neatly trimmed pubic hair. And that was it. Tom lost it completely, his body launching into deep, breath-taking spasms that shook him to the core. His body writhed and bucked, barely containing the pleasure that tore through him. He wanted to scream, to cry in relief, to tell Bill how good it felt after six days of abstinence. . . .But he couldn't do anything of those things. All he could do was form tiny, undignified whimpers and grope at Bill's hair and shoulders for support.   
At last, Bill lifted his head and gazed at Tom with delight. His mouth was painted in cum and his long, pale neck was dripping wet from the massive load of repressed cum Tom had been holding in for days. It was the hottest thing he had ever seen.   
Tom tried to lift a hand to touch Bill, tried to open his mouth and speak. But his whole body felt limp and drained.   
Bill dragged his arm across his mouth, smearing cum across his cheek. He let out a pleased sigh and laid out next to Tom, dragging a lazy fingertip down Tom's chest and across his nipple, “I'm glad to see your cock wasn't damaged in it's 'coffin.'”   
“No, definitely not.” Tom shook his head, “That was. . .amazing.”   
Bill smiled softly and drew his fingernails across the rosy bud of Tom's nipple, “I. . .I liked how you did this.”   
The words were uttered shyly, as if Bill were ashamed of it. Tom couldn't remember the last time they had been on equal ground like this in bed. It was scary, exhilarating, but Tom wanted more.   
“Yeah?” Tom urged.   
Bill nodded, flushing, “Felt really good. . .”   
Tom smiled and began to slide down in the bed, seeking out those hard little peaks once more. Bill eagerly leaned forward, his hand palming Tom's cheek to guide his mouth to one nipple. His eyes drifted shut as Tom's lips closed around the sensitive flesh. Bill whimpered softly, his body arching when Tom drew his lips back to nip at the hard nub. He bit softly, tugging this way and that before swiping his tongue across the swollen skin.   
“Ooh, Tomi. . .” Bill moaned, his erection jabbing Tom in the stomach.   
Tom rolled over and pushed Bill with him, putting Bill on his back, on the bottom. Bill went without a fight, bolstering Tom's courage. He grabbed Bill's slender wrists and pinned them above his head before ducking down to go after those hard, aching points again. Bill moaned, arching wildly against Tom. Tom shifted one hand across both wrists and used the other to tug softly at Bill's nipple.   
“Tomi, please. . .” Bill panted.   
Tom released the nipple and delivered a quick smack. Bill gasped, his body twisting and undulating beneath Tom. His huge, dark eyes raced up to meet Tom's, his full lips moving with whispered curses. Tom smiled and lowered his head to suck on the assaulted flesh.   
Bill's hips urged up against Tom's, his hard cock dragging pre-cum across Tom's stomach. His arms strained against Tom's grip, “Please. . .Please, I'm gonna cum.”   
“Good. That's what I want.” Tom murmured, dragging his mouth up Bill's perspiring neck and jawline, “I want you to cum for me.”   
“I'll cum in your ass.” Bill growled hungrily against the press of Tom's lips, “Show me your ass, Tomi.”   
Tom lifted his head and murmured, “How about I sit on it for you?”   
They both paused, gazing into each other's eyes. Usually when Bill fucked him, Tom was on bottom, face down in the sheets, on his back with his legs bent back on himself. It was a rare occurrence that Tom got to be on top, while Bill laid out on his back. But this was new territory and Tom was eager to try out a new position.   
Bill only hesitated a few moments longer. At last, he nodded, “Okay. Get the lube.”   
Tom fished for the lube in the sheets. He pressed it into Bill's palm, “Your fingers first?”   
Bill took the lube and quickly popped the lid. As he poured out the clear, slick liquid, Tom straddled his waist, spreading his legs wide across Bill's hips. Bill reached between their bodies, his fingers grazing Tom balls before he probed at Tom's hole. Tom thrust his hands out to support himself, losing his breath as Bill spread lube along the cleft and then located his tight hole. One finger slid in, pushing back the meager resistance of Tom's body and driving straight for his sweet spot.   
“Ooh, fuck. . .” Tom groaned.   
“That's right. . .” Bill murmured, sliding his finger in and out at quick, arousing pace, “You like getting fucked, don't you?”   
“Oh yeah. . .” Tom panted, grinding his hips down on Bill's knifing fingers.   
“You like it when I finger you hard?”   
“Yes. . .”   
Bill added a second finger and probed deeper, finding the tight, aching spot of his prostate and pleasuring it with expert fingers.   
“Bill!” Tom burst out, his voice breaking into a breathy expression of lust, “Oh, please. . .”   
“Not until you're wide open for me.” Bill intoned, his voice husky and sultry, “Open up for me, Tomi.”   
“Oh. . .uhhh. . .ahhh, yes. . .” Tom panted seating himself firmly on Bill's long, strong fingers.   
“Are you open for me?” Bill questioned, reaching up to pinch at Tom's nipple.   
“Yes!”   
Bill's fingers tugged hard. Harder. Almost painful. Tom moaned in pleasure, feeling his cock start to bounce on Bill's stomach with the rhythm of his thrusts.   
Suddenly, Bill's fingers pulled out, and he squeezed Tom's balls momentarily. With a ragged voice, he ordered, “Get on me.”   
Tom grabbed the lube before Bill could and drizzled some over Bill's hard, upright cock, red with pulsing blood and decorated at the tip by pearly white spots of pre-cum. Tom pumped his fist over the aching flesh, slicking it completely before lowering himself over Bill's lap. He guided Bill's big, pulsing cock to his entrance and sank down slowly. The flesh went in hard and deep, piercing Tom to the very depth.   
“Ooohh.” They both breathed sounds of pleasure at once.   
“Oh, yeah.” Bill grabbed Tom's hips and urged him to move, “Come on, baby. Ride me.”   
Tom braced his hands on Bill's ribs, just beneath his pecs and picked up a quick rhythm that had Bill's cock driving in and out of him, hitting his prostate over and over.   
“Ohhh!” Bill's cries rose higher, his head tossed back in ecstasy.   
Tom screwed himself down hard, filling his ass completely with Bill's hard, throbbing flesh. It felt so good, better now that he knew what it was like to go without.   
“Oh yeah.” Bill panted, his fingernails digging into Tom's skin, “Fuck me, baby. . . So good. . .”   
Tom picked up the pace a notch, causing the bed springs to squeak in protest. His cock swung freely in front of him, smacking Bill's stomach with each thrust. Just the fact that his cock was able to do that – no longer locked up in the chastity belt – made pleasure sing through his body. He rolled his hips in a quick grinding motion, watching with delight as his hard dick battered Bill's stomach.   
“Fuck, yes. . .” Bill hissed, his hips straining up beneath Tom's driving pace, “Gonna cum. . .”   
“Oh yeah. . .” Tom panted, grabbing at his swinging cock, “Gonna make you cum.”   
Bill's fingers slid over top Tom's, guiding his hand over himself in swift, hard pulls. Tom ardently squeezed and pulled, eager to cum as many times as Bill willed him tonight. After six whole days in the chastity belt, cumming for Bill over and over again wouldn't seem like work at all, but a task he would so willingly put his body through.   
Tom could feel Bill's cock getting bigger, harder inside him. He was on the verge, and Tom was right there with him, his fingers steady beneath Bill's. They thrust together, their bodies creating wet, smacking sounds that only served to turn them both on even more.   
Bill's mouth fell open, tiny gasps tearing repeatedly from his throat as his body began to clench in climax. His nails dug into the back of Tom's hand, and his hips jerked up, pushing his cock deep into the wet, tight heat of Tom's ass. Tom felt his his muscles start to clamp down, going impossibly tight around Bill, so tight it almost hurt.   
“Ahhh. . .Oh God. . .” Tom moaned, slowing his thrusts to deep hip rotations that made Bill's head strike his prostate.   
Bill cried out, a shudder going through him as he was claimed by climax. His slender body began to buck wildly beneath Tom's weight, nearly unseating Tom. Clawing at Tom's hips, Bill came beautifully, his body twisting and turning, his face screwed up in intense pleasure. His hair was completely disheveled and clinging to his sweating forehead, and his makeup was smeared beyond repair. Tom had sucked his lips bare of gloss, leaving behind a tiny bruise on his lower lip. He looked absolutely debauched, so appealing that Tom couldn't help but complete the picture by cumming all over his stomach and chest. Bill had hardly ceased to shiver and moan as ribbons of cum sprayed from Tom's cock, painting his chest with slick, dripping cum.   
The second climax was just as good as the first; Tom lost himself completely to the pleasure as his body surrendered itself to the violent spasms of long-awaited climax. He remained on Bill's cock, letting the flesh rub him all the way through orgasm with his body clamping down tight around Bill's streaming dick.   
At last, Tom collapsed, freeing Bill's cock from his body. He laid down next to Bill, breathing hard.   
“God. ..”   
“I know.” Bill groaned, clapping his hands over his face, “I've never cum so hard. . .”   
“Me either.” Tom whispered, snuggling up against Bill and running his fingers across his cum-slick stomach.   
Bill dragged his hands back down and looked over at Tom, “You know. . .I've completely forgiven you.”   
Tom nodded, holding Bill closer, “I'm so glad.”   
“Me too. . .Carrying all the anger around inside me. . .It made me feel like a bad person, just really shitty.”   
“You can't imagine how I felt.” Tom replied, shuddering as he remembered the last week and a half.   
“We've changed, haven't we, Tom?”   
Tom hesitated for a second and then agreed, “I think so.”   
“It's time for me to stop being so controlling and mean. . .It's childish.” Bill murmured, shaking his head, “I never thought I would say that.”   
“What do you suggest?” Tom asked, carefully, “I'm never going to stop wanting you, you know.”   
“Of course not.” Bill smiled. Then he sobered a bit, “A betrayal like that changes people. . .It makes you look at the person differently, wonder what's really going in their head. We come back into the relationship with a different perspective, sometimes bad, sometimes good. . .At the beginning I thought, 'This is terrible. I've lost my brother to some meaningless whore.' And then I realized, I hadn't lost you to the girl at all. . .I'd lost you to myself. I was the one pushing the limits and making you pull away.” Bill gave a weary sigh, his eyes clouding with tears, “And realizing that made me mad. . .So mad. I just wanted to take it out on you. I'm sorry.”   
“It's okay.” Tom put his arms around Bill and pulled him close, “I have you now. That's what matters.”   
“I wish I could take back these past few days and do things right.” Bill whispered into Tom's chest, “I feel awful.”  
“You don't have to apologize. I was wrong, too. Really, really wrong. I should've just come to you and explained how I was feeling.”   
“But I made myself way too inaccessible to you.” Bill argued, “I made you afraid of me, and that's not what I want.”   
“Okay, you're right.” Tom held up a hand, “But I just want to move forward from this. I want us to come back better than before. Okay?”   
Bill nodded, vigorously, “Yes. God, yes! You were definitely right about keeping this inside the bedroom.” Then he smiled, deviously, “I never want to stop fucking your sexy ass, though.”   
Tom kissed him softly, “It's all yours.”   
“You wanna go again?” Bill asked with a smile.   
“Definitely.”   
They were back on each other in seconds, kissing, touching, stroking. The time slipped away from them, filled with hours of lovemaking that Tom did not want to end. He didn't know how many times he came, how many times Bill's mouth took him, or his fingers stroked him, or how many times his cock went up Tom's ass. It passed in a whirlwind of love, peace, and restored balance. And though it wasn't the balance that Tom had known before, it was a new prospect that seemed even more gratifying and fulfilling than before.   
When they finally exhausted themselves, they went to the shower and washed each other of the numerous loads of cum staining their flesh. Tom pressed Bill against the wall and kissed him passionately, stroking wet hair and skin with a loving caress. He quietly wished for every day after tonight to be like this – full of vibrant love, and complete acceptance and happiness.   
Dried off and in their pajamas, they went to Bill's room, where the sheets were clean and there was no memory of the punishments Tom had endured over the past week. They climbed beneath the sheets and cuddled into each other's embrace, retreated to the world of their cocoon, a place no one else could touch.   
Then, Tom closed his eyes and slept. He slept like he hadn't slept in a long time, with Bill at his side and peace in his heart. And that was when he knew the balance had truly been restored, and he had his brother back, completely, fully, truly, till the end of time. 

~the end~


End file.
